


Rewound - [Leakira / Defenders of Tomorrow AU]

by Hyperion_of_Elsinore



Category: Voltron: Defenders of Tomorrow, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Defenders of Tomorrow AU, Defenders of tomorrow - Freeform, M/M, Voltron au, bounty hunter AU, leakira - Freeform, like plot stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 18:30:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15913863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyperion_of_Elsinore/pseuds/Hyperion_of_Elsinore
Summary: Leandro slouched with one hand stuffed in the pocket of his faded blue jeans. The other held a thin sheet of paper that had a rather sizeable rip through the top where he’d torn it from the job board.On it stared back at him the dark eyes of someone who'd seen more than their fair share of trouble and hardship in their two decades to last a lifetime. Pieces of longer, charcoal black hair fell around a sharply defined face, and the rest was pulled back behind his head in a loose ponytail. A pair of tinted goggles hung loosely around his neck, and he wore a well-fitting black jacket with a fur-lined hood.Although, Leandro couldn’t care less about the kid. He was way more interested in the seven-figure reward posted in big, blocky letters just below him.





	Rewound - [Leakira / Defenders of Tomorrow AU]

The Castle of Lions was a relic: living history. The building was old: very old, and nearly falling apart. Its walls hung tall and stony against the framework like it was going out of style and the thick slabs of pale stone that lined the walls looked like they were holding together by complete luck. Its pillars and columns were riddled with so many cracks, it was a miracle the place was still standing.

That wasn’t to say it wasn’t beautiful: with its high walls and tall towers that shone brilliantly at the touch of moonlight. Intricate traceries weaved their way up the palace like vines, although much of the meticulous detail had chipped away over the years. The halls were lined with intricately mosaiced windows and padded with plush carpet that may have been exquisite at a time but had long since faded to a sour red.

The castle stood, a stark anachronism, contrasting quite spectacularly against the high rises and neon lights that crowded the inner city. It was perhaps the only remaining piece of Altea: the one thing even the Galra couldn’t bring themselves to destroy.

All was quiet in the southern wing of the castle. Servants and diplomats alike had settled down for the evening, and only the occasional guardsman disturbed the darkened halls. Pale light from the city filtered through the windows, casting broken, flickering beams across the walls. One briefly hit the form of a dark figure, passing unseen in and between the jagged shadows that lined the room.

His stature and figure indicated male, but only barely. He was still rather scrawny, not to mention on the shorter side, but this wasn’t to say he lacked agility.

The figure passed swiftly through the halls, clad in all black. The cape of a cloak billowed behind him soundlessly. He paused, cocked his head to one side and then the other, listening. Nothing other than the soft murmur of the city below permeated the space and, satisfied, he continued down the hall: markedly more cautious.

He looked like the shadow of a bird: darting about almost erratically. Hopping and stopping and inching. Pausing to search the air, to listen for sounds of trouble.

He stopped at a doorway near the end of the hall, just barely tilting his head out before darting back again. He repeated this twice more, each time inching out a little further. Finally satisfied, he scurried quickly across the length of the hall.

The figure stopped in front of a tall, stained oak door positioned between two large windows. One held in its glass a wilting lily, the other: a rose.

A hand darted out from under the cloak, holding something long and slender that flashed silver in the light of the window. There was a long pause, where the figure was quite still. The air stagnated with a lingering hesitation, one that lasted nearly a minute. And then the figure kicked the door in.

\--

The headlines the following morning read: “King Zarkon’s Head of Tactics - Brutally Murdered. No signs of exterior break-ins. No leads.”

\--

_Two years later._

Leandro leaned casually against the dark brick wall of an unnamed alley that stretched between 1st and 2nd street. The evening air around him hung light and cool, tangy with the taste of salt. The sky had turned a dark amber as the sun had set over the bay, and was slowly fading a deep blue. Street lamps had begun to flick on around him, casting the grimy walls of the alley a soft yellow and slanting shadows across everything.

The buildings on this side of town were a lot more rugged than they were in the Galra district: all the skyscrapers and flashy lights replaced by lines of dingy apartments and shady alley after shady alley. It always seemed like people were…lurking here, more than living. Just slinking around from one sketchy part of town to the other. Leandro supposed that’s what they were doing now: hiding out in this mucky little side street like they were.

He slouched with one hand stuffed in the pocket of his faded blue jeans. The other held a thin sheet of paper that had a rather sizeable rip through the top where he’d torn it from the job board. Leandro regarded it thoughtfully, although he couldn’t say he actually found it all that interesting. Mostly, he was trying to look busy, and serious. That’s what a squad leader was: cool and brooding and junk.

On the paper stared back at him the dark eyes of someone in their early twenties who’d seen a lot more in their two decades than most should have to in their whole lives. Of someone who was giving the world a rough time when that’s all it had given him. Now see, there was someone who was _definitely_ good at brooding.

Longer, charcoal black hair fell in pieces around a sharply defined face: the rest was pulled back behind his head in a loose ponytail. A pair of tinted goggles hung loosely around his neck, and he wore a well-fitting black jacket with a fur-lined hood. The collar and sleeves were neatly trimmed in a red that complimented the color of his shirt.

Straight through the middle of the tear at the top of the page was  a single letter - “K.“

Although, he couldn’t care less about the kid. Leandro was way more interested in the seven-figure reward posted in big, blocky letters just below him.

“Hey Hunk, I think Leandro’s got a new crush,” Petra trilled snidely from across the alley, wiggling her eyebrows up and down suggestively. She was a smaller girl with short, choppy blonde hair and big round glasses that nearly covered her whole face. And, although she didn’t look it, Leandro knew from experience that she was good in a fight.

“Uh huh, uh huh, that’s nice,” Hunk was obviously not paying attention, eyes still locked on the line of cars moving down 2nd street.

“Can it, would ya Petra?” Leandro shot, stuffing the paper into the pocket of his trench coat. “I’m just making sure I know the guy’s face when we see him.” He crossed his arms tightly, turning resolutely away from Petra. The last thing he needed tonight was her incessant teasing. He needed focus, for this mission to go flawlessly. He needed that bounty.

“Still nervous about your first mission, huh?”

“No.” Leandro made a muffled, frustrated noise. He bit his lower lip. “Yes. Maybe. A little.” He turned further into the wall, pulling his arms tighter against his chest. “And it’s not my first! I’ve gone out plenty of times.”

“First time leading one.”

 _Damn it_ . Why was Petra _still_ so good at reading him? A few years ago yeah, sure, he was new and naive, and you could make out just about everything that went through his head by a look alone. But he was better now! More controlled.

So it was infuriating when Petra could sit there and read him like an open book.

She gave him a small smile, “It’s alright, you’re doing great so far.” She began scuffing at the ground with the toe of her boot, “I’m sure Veronica was scared her first mission as squad leader, and I _know_ Nadia was. And besides, you’ve got Hunk and me. Trust me, neither of us would be here if we didn’t think you were at least semi-competent at this whole leader business. You’ll do great.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Leandro huffed. But he couldn’t help the small smile that briefly flashed across his face.

“Hey guys, we’ve got movement. Pretty big movement, actually.” Hunk called from down the alley.

Leandro pushed off the wall, jogging up behind Hunk with Petra close on his heels. He pulled a pair of sleek black binoculars out of the inside pocket of his trenchcoat, focusing them on Romelle’s Bridge. It was broad, cast iron, but not particularly spectacular apart from the fact it stretched across the entirety of the bay: linking them to the Galra district.

“Where, where, I don’t see,” Leandro bobbed back and forth, leaning forward until his knees were pressed against the back of Hunk’s reefer.

“Aw, he went behind that container ship. Here, wait wait, just listen.” Hunk held up a finger, indicating the other two fall silent.

Leandro lowered his binoculars. All three leaned forward curiously, heads turned towards the bridge. He couldn’t hear anything at first, just the dull thrum of traffic and the occasional shout or holler behind them. He craned his neck forward, letting his eyes slide shut and focusing solely on listening for anything deviating from the humdrum of the city.

It came as a soft murmur at first, not something you’d easily pick apart from the standard din, but it immediately caught Leandro’s attention. It was indistinctly the whine of a cycle. The murmur heightened in pitch suddenly, ascending to a dull roar and rapidly growing louder. Leandro’s eyes snapped open, scanning the bridge through his binoculars.

His eyes landed on a lone motorist at the other end, streaking across the bridge impossibly fast through the thick rush hour traffic. He was nearly halfway across when Leandro lowered the binoculars, grin spread wide across his face.

“Oh, that’s _definitely_ him.”

“Yeah, well when I saw him across the bay, it looked like he had some guys following him. But I think they got kinda,” Hunk held a hand up in front of him, sliding it up and down to gesture a wall, “Caught in traffic. I mean that’s good for us. You know it’s nice not to be the ones the Galra are trying to kill for once. I mean, probably. I’d guess K is a higher priority – I mean he _is_ an assassin – plus he’s the one with the big money over his head. Actually, I wonder how much our bounty would be if we–”

“Hunk, you’re rambling buddy,” Leandro had the binoculars trained on the dark shape of the motorcycle as it wove its way through the sea of cars. The bridge led out directly onto 2nd street and seeing as the road was one way, the motorist would have to pass right by their little alley.

Leandro’s grip tightened on the binoculars. “Petra, you all set?”

She gave a small, affirmative grunt. “Yeah. We’re ready for him.”

“Woah Woah Woah, wait is that a _harpoon_ gun?” Hunk gasped, and Leandro could see him reel to the side in his peripherals.

“Yeah. Were you listening when I was going over the plan earlier?”

“Sorry,” Hunk sounded actually apologetic, “It’s just I haven’t eaten since noon, and you stopped us to debrief like _right_ in front of this fish and chips place I like to go to sometimes, like oh man they have the _best_ –”

“Hunk, _not_ the time,” Petra shot.

“Get ready for him, he’s nearly at the end of the bridge.” The sound of the motorcycle was nearly deafening now. Leandro tensed, the muscles in his legs and shoulders coiling, loading like a spring. “Mind your timing Petra, fire too early or too late and it’s big trouble.”

He heard a slide and click as Petra slid the harpoon into place. “You aren’t the only one who can fire a gun, you know.”

“Hey guys, is our plan really just to fire a _harpoon_ at his bike? Because that’s really not–”

“ _Shut it Hunk_ ,” Leandro and Petra shouted in unison.

“Get ready,” Leandro’s eyes didn’t leave the motorcycle. His breath caught in his throat: bated. “Almost…almost…” He squinted, worrying the inside of his cheek. “Turned, he turned, _he turned_ ,” Leandro tore away from his binoculars, “Petra shoot _now_.”

Biting down harshly on her lower lip, Petra pulled the trigger and sent the harpoon whizzing through the air towards the street just as a loud, roaring streak of red passed them by.

At first, it looked like it had just barely missed the back end of the motorcycle. Leandro smirked. This wasn’t over yet.

The tip of the harpoon seemed to freeze mid-air, lingering a fraction of a second, before turning sharply in the direction of the motorcycle. It chased after it several more yards before piercing the back wheel.

Leandro’s hands flew to his ears at the ear-shattering _bang_ that ensued, followed by the sickening sound of metal crunching. An eruption of car horns began to blare, and Leandro could taste smoke.

Petra pumped her fists in the air, jumping up excitedly. “Yes!”

“Uh, how did that _actually_ just work? That missed him. That _totally_ missed him. How did you get it to…” Hunk paused as realization dawned on him, “ _Ooooh_ that was that thing we planted on his bike last week! The electromagnetic pulsator whatever. I thought it was just a tracker.”

Leandro and Petra pushed past Hunk, running out into the open air of the street.

“Yup!” Leandro spared a quick glance at Hunk as he began weaving his way through the mess of stationary cars. “And then Petra put that doohickey on the tip of the harpoon, so when we shot it, it locked onto that electro whosma whatsit!”

“It was a little more complicated than _that_ ,” Petra huffed directly behind him. “Actually, if you’re interested in the schematics Hunk, I–”

“No time for science stuff! C’mon, we gotta get to him before he runs off!”

“Remind me why we didn’t just capture him when we found his motorcycle?” Hunk had already begun panting, “It took us forever to find that bike.”

Leandro slowed, turning back towards Hunk, “He’s an assassin, remember? We couldn’t just stand around his bike, hoping he’d show up. He’d get the jump on us!”

“We needed the element of surprise on our side,” Petra explained, “You don’t just _get_ to drive around in something that loud doing something _that_ sketchy without being good at disappearing when you want to. It would’ve been too easy for him to slip away.”

Thus, they’d staged the car accident. Using the tracker they’d planted, they were able to figure out where he was, and where he was likely going. Then it was just a matter of figuring out how to take out the motorcycle.

Leandro imagined outmaneuvering pursuers was hard enough without a mess of cars and confused passengers blocking your way. Plus it risked injury to their target, pulling the odds in their favor.

It had all been Leandro’s plan, naturally. Which is why they’d picked him to head the squad that would carry it out.

Leandro broke through the cluster of cars into a small clearing, at the far end of which sat the smoking husk of a motorcycle. Bent over it were the sparking remains of the lamp post it’d run into. The form of the assassin K sat hunched against the cycle, silhouetted ominously by several dozen headlights.

He was actually quite impressed K was conscious at all, after a crash like that.

Leandro’s sprint fell into a confident strut as he approached K, his hands thrown casually into the pockets of his trench coat. He stopped just in front of K, giving him a sweeping, uninterested glance. He looked exactly like the picture had. All sleek and stoney.

K sat, hands clenched into fists at his sides, panting heavily. He glared up at Leandro, thick brown eyes stapled into a head framed by choppy black hair that had fallen out of its ponytail. They bore into him, forced their intensity onto Leandro, made him feel the same heat they held. There was so much will in those eyes. This wasn’t a man. This was an explosion waiting to happen.

The picture really hadn’t done him justice.

In just a fraction of a second K’s hand had moved to the katana strapped to his back. He’d pulled the blade nearly halfway out of its sheath when K felt the click of a pistol press hard against his forehead. Leandro couldn’t help but grin at the bitter look that flashed across K’s face, realizing he’d wound himself up in check.

“So, you’re Akira.” Leandro grinned cockily at his target.

Akira’s eyes went wild for a second, filled with something primal. No, it wasn’t quite fear…it was anger. “How do you know my name,” Akira whispered harshly.

Leandro shrugged casually, “Did my research. Found a couple of people who knew you before you started running around as K. Hmmm K…K…what does that stand for anyway?”

“None of your business.”

“Killer? Kill…ing? That’s kind of on the nose though…or…oh! It’s like A-Kira. So do you actually go by Kira, then?”

“I said it’s none of your business!” Akira shouted, swiftly pulling his katana and slamming the hilt into Leandro’s hand, forcing him to release the pistol. It hit the ground with a sharp crack, skidding out of reach. In an instant, Leandro felt the sharp pressure of a blade held directly to his throat.

Akira’s eyes blazed not inches from his own.

“Leandro!” Petra called roughly from somewhere behind him.

It was sweet of her to worry, but there was no need. Leandro shot Akira a toothy grin, pulling out the hand still stuffed in his pocket and with it a pistol identical to the first. He had it pressed to Akira’s chest before he had time to react.

“Hope you didn’t think it’d be that easy.”

Akira glanced down at the gun. “Quintessence?”

“Oh, you noticed?”

“The barrel’s glowing bright blue,” Akira deadpanned.

“Well, yeah, it’s quintessence. Just got them recently, if you care to know. Bit of an upgrade. I was promoted, actually.”

“Congratulations.”

“Oof. I can’t tell what’s sharper, your tone or the sword.”

“it’s a katana,” Akira growled.

Leandro did his best to shrug, “Looks like a sword to me.”

Akira tensed suddenly, his eyes darting up somewhere over Leandro’s shoulder, “Take one more step, and I slice his throat open!”

Leandro heard Petra give a muffled, affirmative grunt behind him. She must have been trying to help. He felt a little guilty for that: making his friends watch helplessly while he was bickering with the man who had a sword to his jugular.

Leandro sighed.

“Alright, I’ll just be the one to say it: this is super boring. And we all know you’re kinda trapped anyway, ya know with my friend there and the Galra on their way, sooooo….what do you say you lower your sword, and I drop my pistol, and we do this thing like respectable, murderous adults?”

Akira’s face was beyond incredulous, bordering on shock. He relaxed it quickly, letting a sly grin take its place. “You’re pretty confident, buddy.”

“Yup.”

“You really think you can catch me? Something no other bounty hunter or Galra squadron has been able to do in the past two years?”

“Mmm…yes.”

Akira grinned, “Alright. Let’s do this.”

“Drop on three,” Leandro tensed. “Oh! And no cheating and slicing my throat once I lower the gun. Cause then Petra’ll totally shoot you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Three…two…..one and a half…….one and a quarter…”

“Leandro!” Petra shot.

“Alright, alright! Three two one go!”

Akira withdrew his blade, hopping back a step and Leandro lunged for his other pistol. He turned back, grinning. Akira leveled a stare with him, eyes lingering on Leandro’s a brief moment, before he turned and bolted in the other direction.

“H-hey!” Leandro called indignantly, “Come back! That’s cheating!”

“Leandro! Wait!” Petra called out behind him. He ignored her, obviously. What, was he supposed to just let this guy get away?

Leandro pushed himself into a sprint, hoping his long legs would give him the advantage on speed. Akira slid over a car a dozen feet ahead of him, then turned left sharply and disappeared into the crowd of rubbernecks. Leandro cursed loudly, jumping onto the roof of the car of a very irritated, older Galran woman.

There: he spotted Akira struggling to push through a curious group of onlookers to his left.

“Leandro!”

“Losing him!’ He shot back annoyedly.

He was beginning to catch up, could see Akira not five feet ahead of him ducking and dipping through the stalled traffic.

“LEANDRO! Stop!”

Akira came to a sudden halt, wriggling and twitching like a salted slug, before falling to the ground in a spark of blue. Leandro was only barely able to stop himself before he met the same fate thanks to Petra’s warning.

Akira lay on the ground, twitching and apparently unconscious for the moment. Petra and Hunk sauntered up behind Leandro. He whirled back on them, still a little shaken.

“Holy crow, what _was_ that?”

Petra crossed her arms proudly, “Particle barrier. While you were busy _flirting_ , I had Hunk make himself useful and sneak away to set one up around the perimeter. Then I overloaded the system, so it’s pretty much an electric fence. It’s, ah, not very good for the receptors mind you–one’s already burned out – but–”

“Petra! You impy little genius!” Leandro grabbed her, pulling the girl into a tight hug.

“Hey!” she sounded, annoyed, but the smooshed grin on her face said otherwise.

“Uh, hey guys, still here. Also, so is that K guy, and hate to break the mood, but we don’t know how long he’s gonna be knocked out like that. So might wanna tie him up or something. I dunno, just a thought.”

“Oh! Right!” Leandro pulled away from Petra, turning to Akira. He knelt down, giving him a worried look. “Hey Petra, how high’d you set the voltage exactly? He’s looking a little…less than living.”

“Eeeyyuummmmmm…” Petra trailed off, just a bit awkwardly. “I mean, for starters, the voltage wouldn’t matter in terms of electrocution, that’s wattage. But still, I’m not…sure? We were kinda rushed, so I just sorta winged it. Lemme…get back to you on that.” Petra ran over to one of the receptors, flipping it off and beginning to fiddle with it.

Hunk sighed. “Not that either of you cares, but I think I just heard someone zap themselves on the ‘fence.’ I’m gonna start collecting these before we end up with fried Galra.” Hunk began making his way along the ‘perimeter’ they’d set up: switching off receptors as he went.

Leandro furrowed his brow, drilling his fingers steadily on his knee. He shifted his weight from foot to foot thoughtfully. Leaning forward on the balls of his feet, he placed his head on Akira’s chest. “It’s faint, but he’s still breathing,” Leandro said, relieved. Petra gave a slight nod, still engrossed in the receptor.

Leandro narrowed his eyes, snapping his fingers in front of her face, “Hello, Earth to Petra. Super deadly assassin guy’s alive. Wanna help me tie him up, or what?”

“Yeah…sorry.” Petra, a bit reluctantly, set aside the receptor and began digging through the light olive satchel slung around her shoulder. It only took her a moment before she’d produced a pair of twin metal rings. Leandro helped her fasten them around Akira’s wrists. Then, they rolled him onto his stomach, pulling his hands behind him. Petra held out a small cylindrical key, which Leandro was able to fit comfortably into a slender hole on the side of the cuffs. Twisting the key, the two rings began to hum, snapping together almost immediately.

“Leandro,” Petra whispered, smacking his shoulder.

“Huh? What’d I do?” He looked up from where he’d been situating Akira upright against a lamp post.

She nodded towards a rather large group of people with all too annoyingly familiar purple hair and red visors. The Galra’d finally managed to drag their asses over to see what had happened, then.

“Hunk!” Leandro shot, turning around almost wildly, scanning the crowd of cars and onlookers. His eyes landed on the big oaf a quarter block down, cradling a  precarious pile of receptors. “We gotta bounce.” Hunk didn’t even need to see the small troop of Galra enforcers to start jogging towards them.

Leandro knelt down in front of Akira, wrapping his arms around the other’s (surprisingly thin) waist and hauling him over his shoulder. He rose to his feet with some effort and a low grunt, but the dude was surprisingly light. Well, as light as an unconscious guy can be. He was still going to be hella annoying to carry.

They took off the second Hunk had rejoined them, tailed by a small chorus of ‘hey!’s as the enforcers began to slowly pick up what was going on.

Leandro could feel his face lighten, and he couldn’t shake off the grin that had spread ear to ear. He loved the thrill of the chase, although he doubted the enforcers would be able to rally and make their way through that crowd any time before they’d slipped away. Still, the rush of a plan gone right propelled him forward, and his sprint had turned into something that was nearly a skip.

With a small grunt, he turned around, so he was jogging backward. Leandro smirked, unable to help himself, “Suck my–”

“Leandro! Let’s _go_!”

“Aw Petra, you’re no fun,” he whined, turning back around to run properly.

Forget money problems for the next few months, this Akira guy would have them loaded.

\--

Their base of operations was located in a squat factory that sat along an unused part of the bay. Archaically old and long ago abandoned, there weren’t even streets left that ran to the place. The only way to get to it was a long and sometimes annoying trek through the long grass that grew along the banks.

The building was made of old red brick, dusted pink from long hours of sun exposure. The few windows that lined the walls were either impossibly grimy or completely paneless. Tall smokestacks poked out of the top, so covered in soot and sludge that they cast long black shadows on the darkened night sky.

Leandro stood just a stone’s through up from the water, readjusting Akira on his shoulder for the umpteenth time that night. Petra was still working on deactivating the alarms – a long and painstaking process that took quite a bit of time on a good night.

The bay had turned an inky black. The tiny lights of the Galra housing district glittered and danced across the surface of the water, almost like stars. Above them rose the tall, serene figure of the Castle of Lions. It hovered above the city like a ghost, silent and subdued, and watching.

It had been nearly three hundred years since the Galra had invaded the Altean Empire and claimed this land as their capital. And although Leandro had only been around for the last twenty-two of those, he could still feel the wrongness of all of it. The Alteans had lived by democracy and equality. The Galra ruled through fear and segregation. After the Alteans had been wiped out, the humans had been forced into slum-like existences, while the Galra lived it up in the luxury districts.

Leandro sighed, turning his gaze up. There was so much light pollution, it didn’t even look like a proper night sky. It lurked above them, a sickly shade of yellow-black the same color of bile. The whole sky seemed closer somehow. Like a vast ceiling floating far above their heads, blocking out all the stars. But not so far it was unreachable.

Leandro shifted Akira again, grunting at the ache that had sprung up in his shoulder. Was he ever looking forward to dumping this guy off. Honestly, they’d _both_ been lucky Akira hadn’t woken up on their trek over. Because if Leandro’d had to deal with a kicking and resisting captive in addition to lugging his ass all across the sandbanks, he’d have thrown him into the ocean.

There was a small beep and then a sharp click behind him, followed by a relieved sigh from Hunk. Leandro turned back towards the factory, making his way up to where Petra and Hunk stood just outside the entrance.

“Took you long enough,” Leandro griped under his breath.

“It took me as long as it always does.”

“Well, you weren’t the one who had to–”

“Let’s just. Go inside.” Petra let out an exasperated sigh.

Leandro grumbled but didn’t push the argument further. While he was still feeling a little stubborn, Akira wasn’t getting any lighter.

Petra heaved the door open with her shoulder, grunting under the weight of it. Leandro would have offered to help, but the last time he’d tried he’d ended with a Petra-size boot print on his face.

“We’re back!” called Leandro lazily as he strode into the factory, taking the first opportunity he could to drop Akira down next to the wall. Hunk trudged in after him silently, dragging his feet.

The factory was empty: a long metal floor completely barren of all but a few moldy crates and a rusting lathe. No signs of life.

Petra trailed in after them, hauling the door shut. “Could you keep it down, Leo?”

He shrugged, “It’s not like anyone’s gonna hear us. I mean, we’re pretty isolated.”

“Whatever, can we just get going? I haven’t eaten since like, this morning,” as if on cue, Hunk’s stomach let out a loud growl. “See?”

Leandro smirked, “And you’re worried I’m the one making too much noise.”

“Hey,” Hunk sounded hurt.

Still smirking, Leandro turned towards a segment of the wall just next to the door.

“Here, I can grab that–”

“Aw, c’mon Petra, lemme do it for once, would ya?”

She didn’t respond, and Leandro took that as a ‘go ahead.’ He tapped around the wall a couple times, eventually finding the dud brick and pulling it out of its cubby. Inside sat a row of old buttons and switches: designed to blend in with the technologies at the time of the factories construction some two hundred years ago.

He hit the buttons in the order he remembered Petra telling him: the big red one first, a couple of the small black ones, aaaaand flip the weird metal switchy doodad. Perfect.

There was a loud crunch and, just as Leandro had slid the brick back into place, the floor beneath them began to shift. It started moving down steadily and much smoother than one would expect a lift of this proportion to be capable of. Still, it was slow as hell.

It took a whole two or three minutes before the entrance of the base began to slide into view along the wall opposite them. Leandro shifted his weight back and forth, tipping side to side almost anxiously.

By the time they’d nearly reached the bottom, Leandro had already slung Akira back over his shoulder and was bouncing impatiently in front of the growing opening that lead down to the main sector. He jumped off onto the dusty concrete floor several feet below, not willing to wait until the lift had properly grounded itself. Not wasting any time, Leandro began making the trek down the long hallway leading deeper into the facility.

“Always so impatient,” He heard Petra tut behind him.

“Yeah, well I’m with Leandro on this one, actually.” He heard Hunk fall to the floor with a loud _thud_. “It’s stroganoff night in the cafeteria.”

Petra sighed but hopped down after them regardless. “…fine. I suppose a sense of urgency isn’t the worst possible thing right now–K’s going to be annoying when he wakes up.”

“I second that.” Hunk sniffed, “I still don’t understand why we keep trying to catch these, like, super deadly guys. Like, us specifically. I mean, both Petra and I are techs, strictly speaking. And I for one could go for a lot less danger in my life.”

Leandro whirled around on them, shifting his pace, so he was walking backward. “Pffff, for the money obviously. Do you know how many _credits_ this guy’s worth?” He turned back around, purposefully bouncing Akira up on his shoulder for good measure. Although the action didn’t come without a sharp pain to his upper arm. He winced.

There was another loud groan from Hunk’s stomach. “Ugh, well I hope he’s worth at least a bowl of stroganoff.”

“Please. I bet we could buy a hundred thousand bowls with what he’ll be pulling.”

“Hey, can we just focus on getting him back to Allia first? Leandro, you walk slower when you chatter,” Petra, who’d appeared at his elbow, poked him roughly in the shoulder.

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” Leandro griped. Jeez, Petra could be kind of a tight ass sometimes.

When Akira first came to, he decided not to open his eyes.

It had been the first time. The first time anyone had not only come close to catching him, but somehow actually gone and done it. He’d been cocky, too confident in the fact he was dealing with another group of morons. He’d misstepped. Had discarded his usual air of caution and skepticism, and screwed up big time.

This was his fault.

He’d gotten so…accustomed to dealing with the Galra. It was easy, _way_ too easy, to slip seamlessly under their noses for the privileged group of idiots they were. All purple hair and pointy ears and heads full of fluff. They were nothing.

Bounty hunters had been a problem when he’d first started out and had begun getting good at what he did. As workers in an occupation alarmingly similar to his own, and very often not Galra, they were a little trickier to deal with. But nothing impossible. And after a while, enough stories had begun floating around the undercity, most of them left him alone as well.

But these people…he had definitely _not_ pegged them as a threat. For pete’s sake, they’d fired a _harpoon_ gun at him. Sure it hit, but he still didn’t think they were anything more than stupidly lucky.

No…he’d been wrong about that. Everything about this operation was rigged from the get-go. Purposefully orchestrated to look like a series of happy accidents to get him to lower his guard. A carefully calculated ploy masked under the cover of an amateur’s attempt at making a quick buck. That was the only reason he’d fallen for such an obvious trap. It was kind of brilliant, actually. He had no doubt it had been the short one with the glasses who’d brewed it. She seemed like the type.

Still, it made his skin boil.

Akira had no doubt he’d be running free by the end of the night, but this time he would be doubly sure to act with caution. So, best he bide his time and play unconscious a little while longer.

His hands were restrained, that was the first thing he could discern. And he was on the floor, propped up carelessly against a wall. There was this terrible pain in his chest too, distinct from the general ache that was pulsing through the rest of him. Akira wouldn’t be surprised if he broke a couple ribs in the accident.

There were at least three people in the room besides himself: the lot that had crashed his bike earlier. They were chatting about something. The reckless one, Leandro, seemed to be talking rather energetically with who he was fairly certain was the smaller one with glasses about some scarf he’d seen in a store today. The bigger fellow would chime in every once in a while, mostly complaining about how long they’d have to wait here.

Akira was wondering the same. Although…waiting for what?

As if in answer to his question, he heard a door somewhere to his far right click open, and the room fell silent. Two pairs of footsteps entered. One stalled by the entrance, but the other didn’t stop until it was nearly beside Akira. Chairs scraped harshly across the floor, and the others joined the mystery person, situating themselves to his left.

Leandro was the first to speak up. “Aaaaand here he is! Our ticket to seven million credits. Neat, clean, and only a little bruised. I almost got my throat sliced open to get him here, you know.” Honestly, Akira had been regretting _not_ cutting the kid open. Then he wouldn’t be in his mess. And honestly, he’d rather be lying back on the street with a hole in his head than have to listen to this guy talk about men’s apparel.

“I’d venture he’s more than a ‘little’ bruised,” said the smaller one, “I’m a bit concerned about his condition, actually. We ended up knocking him out with an electrical shock measuring nearly 10k in wattage, and while his breathing and heartbeat seemed regular – albeit a bit weak – he hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Hmmm. I don’t think that’s quite true,” This voice was new, not placeable to the three from earlier. It seemed to belong to the person who had just entered. It was soft and held a kind sort of warmth. “Come on then Akira, no point in playing possum any longer.”

Akira’s eyes slid open. The voice belonged to a woman with darker skin and gentle eyes. Standardly beautiful, she had long sheets of white hair that curled and weaved down her back in an elegant ponytail. The kindness in her face and the strength in her posture radiated the energy of a natural-born leader. Even more interesting were the two lighter marks beneath her eyes. They looked like little chevrons and shone the faintest shade of blue.

“Altean…” Akira whispered, finding his voice incredibly weak.

The woman nodded, flashing a smile far more genuine than he’d expect to come from any sort of bounty hunter. “Indeed.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me he’s been faking it this whole time?!” Leandro gaped.

Akira leveled a rather nasty glare at him. He’d known the guy all of ten minutes, and he was already starting to piss him off.

“Leandro,” the short one hissed, elbowing him harshly in the ribs. He fell silent, but not before meeting Akira’s gaze with an equally intense stare.

“Akira, was it?” He turned his attention back to the Altean woman. She gave him another encouraging smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I…” he turned to look at the other three, then back at the Altean. “What’s going on here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Leandro puffed his chest out proudly, “We’re gonna turn you in for that big ol’ bounty you got sitting on your head. So we got more, ya know, credits and junk–oof! Petra! Stop doing that!” He turned to glare at the one named Petra, who had just elbowed him again.

“Shut it!” She grumbled, annoyed.

Akira sighed. “You’re bounty hunters then?”

“Occasionally,” the Altean said mysteriously.

“I just…I’m sorry, but I’m not really following. Why am I here? Why are you being so nice, who are you people?”

“I was hoping you’d ask,” the Altean beamed. “We are an organization known as the ‘Knights of the Coalition of Voltron’ – or if you’d prefer, simply ‘Voltron’ suffices. We serve as an anti-government, anti-Galra agency that seeks to dethrone King Zarkon and return power to the many by reinstituting rightful, Altean rule over this land. We seek justice, fairness, and wellbeing for all citizens of this empire. As for why I have brought you to us,” her tone grew direly serious, “I have a proposition to make.

“Akira Kogane, I would like to invite you to join our number as an agent, and serve alongside us as a knight of Voltron as we tear down this wretched empire.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey just for the sake of clarity here's a name chart:
> 
> Leandro is Lance and Keith is Akira and all that  
> Pidge = Petra  
> Allura = Allia  
> Coran = Corrigan  
> Hunk = Hunk
> 
> Because Hunk is already a cool ass name and the alternative was like, Hank. Anyway, this fic is also up on Tumblr! http://platypik.tumblr.com/post/177757925970/wrote-the-first-chapter-of-defenders-of <\--that's the link. Shoot me a like or reblog if you liked the fic, that'd be swell.


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